


Slow Motion

by riyku



Series: Skam Sunday [18]
Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Bipolar Disorder, Domestic, M/M, Oral Sex, basically a lot of fluff and a little bit of facefucking, true fucking love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2019-01-17 19:52:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12372855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riyku/pseuds/riyku
Summary: It's one of those rare Sundays where Even doesn't have to work and they don't wake up to find Jonas or Magnus still sleeping on a pile of blankets in the hallway.  A day that they're allowed to spend slowly.





	Slow Motion

**Author's Note:**

> happy sunday! more marshmallowy fluff. i'm still suffering from post-Interview-mag-photoshoot-daze syndrome.
> 
> i'm gonna renew my vows with my lovely fairy godmother tebtosca pretty soon. she doesn't know it, but i'm writing them as we speak.
> 
> hope you enjoy!

Isak's gonna be on the bad side of a six-pack this morning, so that means homemade scones. Raspberry jam with the seeds still in it, because he actually likes the way they crunch between his teeth. Coffee with a little bit of cinnamon sprinkled on top so it won't be so bitter. Spinach in the omelet so Even can be sure that Isak eats at least _something_ green today.

The sink is full of dishes and the scones are just coming out of the oven as Isak stumps into their tiny kitchen, puffy-eyed and groggy, hissing at the sunlight and fitting himself to Even's back, his fingers curled like little paws against Even's stomach. His hair tickles the nape of Even's neck and his arms are blanket-cozy around his middle, and Even covers Isak's hands with his own, squeezes them. 

It's one of those rare Sundays where Even doesn't have to work and they don't wake up to find Jonas or Magnus still sleeping on a pile of blankets in the hallway. A day that they're allowed to spend slowly. Breakfast and FIFA and a couple of chapters of a book Even's been gradually reading between everything else, when his attention span stretches far enough.

"How's that beer looking this morning?" Even asks, and shivers when Isak rubs his face between his shoulderblades, all warm skin and soft breath, a hint of stubble. He shaves twice a week now, his body only now beginning to catch up to his already grown up heart. 

"A lot less fun than it looked last night," Isak tells him. He sticks his finger into the jar of jam, licks it clean then does it again. Even drowns out the compulsive circuit in his mind with its mumbling about germs and cross-contamination, this nervous mental tic that somehow only applies to food, reminds it that they swap toothbrushes and spit and spunk, and a little bit of Isak's DNA populating an almost empty tub of raspberry jam will probably only make it better.

The thought spiral disperses as Isak does it again, holds his fingers up to Even's mouth for him to suck on, brightly tart fingerprints sliding over Even's tongue. Isak makes a happy noise that Even can feel along his back, sways some and presses his hips to Even's ass until Even turns toward him. His loose arms loop around Isak's neck and they're both swaying now, a slow-motion dance that makes no sense with the quiet music on the radio, but that hardly matters.

This is their first kiss of the day and Even's always sure to make it count, make it last. Sweet and lingering at first. Soft lips and raspberry seeds and Isak's tongue as he lifts up onto his tiptoes and angles in, gives Even an idea of what today is really gonna be like. How it's starting and how it will most likely end.

Isak kisses the tip of his nose, his cheek, back to his mouth and then his collarbone, his eyes not-quite closed, open a sliver in that way that Even adores, sinking down and down to kiss Even's stomach, tease his mouth along the waistband of Even's shorts. He keeps at it until he's kneeling on the floor that both of them have put off sweeping, and his eyes are more open now, flicking up toward Even's in a way that Even adores even more. Even touches his nose, traces the bridge of it while Isak pulls his shorts down, lets them collect at his ankles and kisses his hip.

There's no rush, nothing desperate in it as Isak nuzzles against him, leans his cheek on Even's thigh and rubs him fully hard with a hand that's made slick with his spit then takes him into that perfect angel-shaped mouth of his. Slowly sucks him down, curls his tongue around him and works small miracles with it, pulling off to flick it against his slit, lick up the underside, take Even down again. Another miracle in the stretch of his mouth around Even and how his lips become puffy and flush red, like his cheeks sometimes still do when he leans in to kiss Even hello or goodbye on the busy street corner outside of his work.

Even's stuck staring, hand cupping the curve of Isak's skull, feeling the shift of his muscles and the tremor of Isak's shoulder against his thigh as Isak jacks himself off, watches the movement of his hand inside of his boxers and it's almost hotter that way, to only see the shape of his knuckles and the damp spots his cock is leaving behind. Hotter still as his eyelids slip closed for a moment right before he comes, then fix dark and steady on Even again as he shoots, when he moans around Even's cock and gags on him a little, pulls off for breath and then gags on him again.

If he keeps it up, his voice is gonna be wrecked for hours, raspy and deeper and when he makes his Sunday phone call to his mother, he'll blame his hangover and blush so pretty, mouth at Even to shut the fuck up as Even makes lewd, cocksucking gestures. Then he'll probably crawl into Even's lap when it's Even's turn to do his Sunday mother duty, and exact his revenge in the dirtiest way possible, make Even waste his shorts and wish he was coming somewhere else. Like Isak's ass, or his mouth like he is now, snapping out of another spiral and back into the present, where the kitchen counter is biting into his lower back and he's trying to not stab his hips forward too much, thrust too far down Isak's throat and give him time to swallow, keep it slow.

The dirty dishes are now congealing in the sink and Even's gonna have to deal with them sooner rather than later because this is his life now. Isak climbs back to his feet, using Even's body to pull himself up and hooks his arms around Even's neck. His boxers are damp with cooling spunk and Even remembers that he forgot to turn over the laundry and now they'll have to start all over and this is also his life now. He kisses Even with breath-stealing sincerity, and this is Even's life now, too. It's Isak. More than all the rest. More than anything.

 

-end

 

thanks for reading!


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